


in the eyes of the sea

by foreverephemeral



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Selkie AU, Selkie Hunk, Selkies, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Shiro is Keith's stepbrother, Song of the Sea AU, selkie lance, shiro has a service dog
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2018-11-08 05:47:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11075289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foreverephemeral/pseuds/foreverephemeral
Summary: After his dad dies, Keith is determined to learn the truth about his missing mother. Unfortunately, his search is complicated by his overprotective stepbrother, a lighthouse full of memories, and an unexpected crush on a boy who just happens to also be a seal sometimes. In which selkies are real, and apparently Keith is one, too. Based loosely the movie "Song of the Sea."





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tuesdayandtuesday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesdayandtuesday/gifts).



> _No matter how well you lay your plans, you cannot go home again_  
>  \--The Japanese Popstars, "Song for Lisa"

For so long, this had been enough.

  
The proximity of the sea, these midnight forays into the deep, the fleeting joy of whiskers and fins. She’d slip out beneath the stars, returning as dawn bled orange into the water on the horizon. If her husband noticed the scent of salt in her hair when she returned to their bed, he never realized it was anything more than the ever-present spray around their home on the island. He never knew, or he never mentioned it.

  
And for so long, this had been enough, and she was happy. She loved being human. She loved the sun on her skin, loved the feel of fingers and toes, loved her husband and the child she bore him. Loved, loved, loved. With all of her heart, all of her soul.

  
And yet… even now, she could still feel the pull of the water, an invisible string tying her to the sea no matter how much she loved the land. No matter how much she tried to ignore it, there would always be that little voice in her head, quiet but insistent.

  
_You do not belong here._

  
She could no longer deny the siren song of the ocean, the pleading crash of the tide against the base of the cliffs. It was so close, and tonight, after seven long years, she was finally going back. Back to the sea, the place of her birth, where her heart still lay even after all this time. Back home. Back for good.

  
With soft footsteps she hurried down the staircase to the base of the lighthouse that served as the home of the lighthouse keeper, her husband. Her heart pounded in her ears, her breath caught in her throat; she was hounded by the thought that he might wake up at any moment, that he might rip her freedom from her hands and demand she stay.

  
But how could she stay, when every moment was torture, to be so close to the sea and yet unable to answer its call? She loved her husband, truly she did, and yet there was something there, an invisible gulf that would always separate her from him: he would always be human, and she would always be frustratingly close — almost human, but for the saltwater running through her veins, the ocean in her deep, dark eyes, the melodic lull of her voice that sounded just like the ebb and flow of the tides — she would always be almost, almost human, but she would never be quite human enough.

  
It drove her mad, this inability to truly belong.

  
The spiraling stairs passed a door that was just barely ajar; here she paused, peering into the dark room. A nightlight cast the room in a dim purple, carving long, jagged shadows against the walls. In a bed against the far wall, a small form slept, his breathing a gentle rise and fall that matched the distant lapping of the waves against the shore. Her eyes fell upon the sleeping form; she found herself unable to tear her gaze away, desperate to lock this final glance into her memory. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, half to herself, clutching the doorframe as though she could no longer hold herself up under the weight of her grief. To her horror, the child in the bed stirred, his dark head popping up among the pillows as a chubby hand rubbed at one eye.

  
"Mom?" he slurred, his voice heavy with sleep.

  
"Oh, Keith." Casting a hurried glance over her shoulder, she stepped over to her son's bedside. "I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep."

  
His eyes were cloudy as he blinked up at her slowly, as if unable to decide whether this was a dream.

  
“It’s just me, baby,” she soothed him. “Everything’s alright.” Keith blinked once more before closing his eyes again, sighing quietly. With a fond smile tugging at her lips despite everything, she tucked the blankets around him gently, righting a stuffed lion that had fallen over during the course of the night. Her son grabbed blindly for the toy, clutching it close to his side once he'd gotten hold of it. Once his mother was certain he was comfortable, she rose and took a step back to the door, but the tiny voice called out again.

  
"Mom, where're you goin'?"

  
"I..." She struggled to keep the sorrow from her voice. "Just going to get some water, sweetheart." It wasn't a lie, not really. But somehow the near truth hurt worse.

  
He persisted in his drowsy questions, murmuring, "What's that?"

  
She looked in shock down to the precious garment draped over her forearm, as if she'd forgotten she had it. "My... It's my coat," she said, knowing that if she said it was nothing she’d never be able to escape his curiosity. She began to back away. "Go back to sleep, Keith."

  
He snuffled, rolling over, his lion secured in his arms. For a moment he was quiet, eyes dutifully closed. Then he sat up, as she knew he would. “Song?”

  
“Oh, love.” Despite her fear, she melted at the sight of his pleading eyes, something within her wanting to give him this to remember her by. “Just a quick one,” she relented, sitting on the edge of the mattress. Tucking the coat carefully on her lap, she began to sing wordlessly, little more than a hum. This was a song she’d never sung for him before; it was a lullaby from her own youth, written in the old tongue, a tongue she could not manage in this form. So she hummed, stroking her son’s hair, memorizing the feel and scent of him, no matter how much it would hurt to remember.

  
“There,” she breathed at last, standing. “Sleep now.”

  
Keith, barely awake now, mumbled against his pillow, "Love you, Mom."

  
"Love you, too. And I always will," she whispered to him as she slipped from the room. She could no longer keep the tears from streaming down her face. "Always."

  
It killed her to leave him. What kind of mother was she, to leave her child behind? But she had no choice. If she didn't leave now, she may never have a chance like this again. Her hands shaking, she pulled on her coat, stepping out into the moonlight.

  
"I'm so sorry," she murmured at the lighthouse as it swept its cold light out over the ocean. Without another word, she hurried down to the beach, the cold, damp sand sticking to her bare feet and ankles. The salt wind rushed up to greet her, tossing her long dark hair to the sky, and she hesitated, gasping. Salt clung to her cheeks, mixed with her tears; she scrubbed weakly at her face, trying to bury the sorrow that welled up within her. She took a steadying breath, then another, and then she stepped into the icy water, and she did not look back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Keith returns to his family's old lighthouse, Hunk is an absolute angel, and Keith doesn't know how to respond to people's kindness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Take me home, home where I belong / I can't take it anymore_  
>  \-- Aurora, "Runaway"

Keith wasn’t running away.  


At least, that’s what he told himself as he rode his motorcycle down the highway that curved alongside the coast. The wind howling in his ears and the droning roar of the engine were almost enough to drown out his thoughts, but it seemed his mind was going faster than the speed limit. Thoughts flickered past like road signs: _Shiro would kill me if he knew I wasn’t wearing my helmet_ and _my knuckles still hurt_ and _it’s not really running away if you’re going home, right?_  


As the miles stretched on behind him and the sun descended to the horizon, the highway narrowed from four lanes to two, and what cars appeared all seemed to be headed in the opposite direction. The solitude filled Keith with a fierce, nostalgic happiness. The weight of the events of the past week kept it from blossoming into pure joy, but it was close enough for Keith to grin and gun it. The pine trees flying past, the rocky cliffs tumbling into the ocean, the salt scent of the air: it all crescendoed into one, indisputable truth. 

He was home.  


Keith nearly missed his exit for all the adrenaline singing through his veins. Luckily, there were no other cars to witness as he cut sloppily across the striped buffer zone and onto the exit road. From there, he slowed down enough to gather himself. There was no point in coming back only to crash just outside of town.  


Maneuvering through the back roads, he made his way to the coast. The sky was aflame with sunset’s color as the lighthouse came into view, a dark silhouette stationed between ocean and air. Keith finally allowed himself to exhale. For some reason, there had been some illogical fear in his head that maybe it wouldn’t be there, that it was a place out of a fairy tale, an illusory thing that was blurry-edged and vague in his memories. Seeing it again after all these years was a relief, a reassurance that there was still a place for him here, something that was his, something that couldn’t ever be taken from him.  


He pulled into the parking lot of a row of buildings looking out at the islands dotting the coast. Though many of the shops and businesses were new and unfamiliar to him, the one he was looking for was blessedly unchanged: an old, narrow brick three-story building. The sign above the door read, _Castle of Lions Inn & Restaurant_. A smaller sign on the door said, _Ask Here For Ferry Service_. After parking his bike and making sure his stuff was securely strapped to the back, Keith walked into the inn.  


As the bell on the door chimed, a voice called from another room, “Be right with you!” Keith stepped into the small lobby, looking around. It seemed familiar and foreign all at once. The layout was the same, with the front desk opposite the door, double doors on the left wall leading to the dining room, and the narrow staircase to the right heading up to the rooms on the second story. Old pictures hung on the walls in new frames; the chandelier overhead was definitely new, though a bit cobwebby; and the ugly old wallpaper was gone, replaced by brick-red-painted walls and wood paneling. The couch to the left of the door was the same, though: he sat down and it embraced him like an old friend. It had that same level of sink. He had to struggle to get up when a young woman walked into the room to stand behind the desk.  


She was about his age, with dark skin, pale vitiligo marks on her cheeks, and an enormous cloud of curly hair. “Welcome to the Castle of Lions,” she greeted him. Her smile was dazzling and unexpectedly genuine. “My name is Allura, how may I help you?”  


“Hi,” Keith said, “I’m looking for the ferry?”  


Allura made a soft noise of understanding and nodded. “Right, I’ll fetch my uncle. Wait right there.” She slid out from behind the desk and moved toward the staircase to her left. As she stepped onto the staircase, footsteps thudded down the stairs, and a broad-shouldered young man blocked her path.  


“Whoops, sorry,” he said.  


“Oh, hello, Hunk.” Unruffled, Allura stepped back to let him off the staircase. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”  


“Have you seen Lance? He isn’t in our room.”  


Allura tilted her head, thinking. “I think he said he was going swimming.”  


“Seriously?” Hunk groaned, leaning his head back.  


Allura nodded emphatically, saying, “I know, it’s far too cold! I tried to warn him, but he wouldn’t listen.”  


“Guess I’m going to the beach,” Hunk sighed. “Thanks, Allura.”  


She started up the staircase, saying over her shoulder, “If he catches cold, you tell him I told you so!”  


“I will!” Hunk called after her. He turned and realized Keith was standing there. “Oh, uh, hey man,” he said. “Are you staying here, too?”  


“No, I’m just waiting for the ferry.”  


“Cool, cool.” Hunk stuck out a hand. Unprepared for such easy friendliness, Keith blinked and shook it. “My name’s Hunk, by the way. Me and my friend Lance come here every year for spring break. You ever been here before?”  


“Yeah, I, uh, used to live here,” Keith answered, shoving his thumbs in his pockets. 

“Nice,” Hunk enthused. “Yeah, my moms moved out here a couple years back. They’re just over the county line”--he gestured vaguely--“so we’re gonna go visit ‘em tomorrow.”  


“You have two moms?” Keith blurted before he could stop himself. “That’s cool.”  


Hunk beamed. “Yeah, they’re the best. My mama makes the best chicken curry.”  


There was a moment of silence as Keith failed to come up with a reply. He couldn’t figure out why Hunk was sharing so much about himself, and why he wasn’t going anywhere, until it occurred to him that maybe he was keeping Keith company until Allura got back. Keith allowed himself to feel touched for a brief moment before reminding himself it probably didn’t mean anything. People here were almost stupidly friendly.  


Finally the sound of footsteps came from the stairs as Allura returned, another man following her. Hunk turned to Keith. “Well, nice meeting you…”  


“Keith.”  


“Keith.” Hunk grinned. “See you around, man.” With a two-fingered salute, he departed, the door jingling behind him.  


“Keith,” Allura repeated. Obviously she’d caught the end of the conversation. Keith didn’t blame her; he’d pretty blatantly eavesdropped on her and Hunk earlier. She continued, “This is my uncle, Coran Smythe. He runs the ferry service here.”  


Keith turned to see a red-haired man wearing a long yellow coat and a dark gray beanie. An unlit pipe protruded from under his large red mustache, and it bobbed as the man spoke, “That’s right! You can call me Coran, as in Coran, Coran, the ferryman.” He waved a finger to the rhyme, clearly pleased with himself.  


“I’m Keith,” said Keith, somewhat redundantly.  


“Keith, you say?” Coran leaned in, his eyes narrowing in interest. “You wouldn’t be Kenji Kogane’s son, would you?”  


Keith instinctively leaned away. “Uh, yeah.”  


“Ha, I thought so!” Coran crowed triumphantly. “You’re the spitting image of your father. I remember when you were just a wee thing.” He grabbed Keith’s hand and shook it enthusiastically. “It’s been years since I saw him last. How is he?”  


Keith let go of Coran’s hand, took a step back, and rubbed the back of his head. “Oh, um. He actually passed away in January.”  


Allura made a quiet noise of sorrow. “I’m terribly sorry.”  


Coran added, “It’s a shame. How did he die, if you don’t mind my asking?”  


Keith was relieved to talk to someone who didn’t treat the subject of death delicately. The past two and a half months had been nothing but pitying eyes and tiptoeing around the topic. At this point, he was ready to talk frankly about it, if only to let everyone else know that they could, too. “Heart attack. One night he went to bed and just… didn’t wake up.” He punctuated the sentence with a shrug that he hoped looked nonchalant.  


“How awful.” Allura covered her mouth with her hand.  


It had been awful. It was jarring and bewildering and terrifying to witness how quickly someone could go from life to death in a single night, how someone could be alive one day and dead the next, without warning, without a goodbye. It hurt even worse because that was how his mom went, too: quietly, in the night, vanishing like smoke. But Keith had a place in his mind these days for such messy emotions as grief and loneliness; he packaged them into little boxes and tucked them away to deal with another day. Here, though, with the sound of the ocean in his ears and the memory of his dad’s death still so raw, it seemed like “another day” was fast approaching.  


Coran placed a hand on Keith’s shoulder and said, “We’d better get going before it gets too dark.”  


Keith started, stepping away from Coran’s touch. “Right, yeah,” he mumbled, making for the door. He could feel their eyes on him, could wager a guess that their eyes were perplexed and pitying, but when he glanced over his shoulder, he only saw Allura leveling a knowing stare at him and Coran tucking his pipe into his pocket as he followed, unworried.  


Outside, the evening sky was painted black and orange, the last of the sun bleeding liquid fire into the sea. The streetlights lining the road had flickered on, buzzing faintly overhead as Keith followed Coran across the street to the dock, wheeling his motorcycle at his side. The weight of it against his hip kept him grounded, the handlebars familiar in his hands. It was a short trip to the ferry, a relatively small boat that was just large enough to hold a car or two. Coran stepped on board without a thought, lowering a ramp so Keith could maneuver his motorcycle aboard.  


“Welcome aboard the _Sea Lion_ ,” Coran said grandly.. He headed to a short metal staircase leading to a small upper level that housed the steering wheel. Keith opted to follow him up the stairs rather than wait below with his bike. Coran entered the steering cabin and started the engine. “You’re off to the lighthouse, is that right, lad?”  


“Uh, yeah.” Keith lingered in the open doorway behind him, peering around. “Is this the same ferry you used when Dad and I lived here?” he asked with some wariness.  


“Sure is,” Coran replied, beginning to swing the ship around. He caught Keith’s nervous expression and laughed. “Not to worry. She might not be much to look at, but she still gets the job done. Isn’t that right, old girl?” He patted the steering wheel affectionately.  


The ferry was making good time now, skipping over the dark waves like a flat rock. Keith clung to the doorframe, his knuckles white. Coran cast an amused glance at him before his expression sobered. “I was good friends with your dad back in the day. Good man, he was. I'm sorry.”  


“It's fine,” Keith muttered.  


“I just wanted to let you know you can call me anytime. I’ll ferry you free of charge.” They were coming up on the lighthouse island now. Turning the wheel, Coran added, “Your dad did me a favor once. I’m just sorry I won’t get the chance to pay him back. I hope you’ll humor this old man, if only for my sake.”  


Keith didn’t respond, but again he was struck by how freely people showed kindness around here. He wasn’t about to complain, though there was still a part of him that distrusted this easy altruism. The world had always found ways to remind him that it was a harsh and unforgiving place; it was too easy to see these things as flukes, empty and soon rescinded. Still, he tucked it away, this bit of good in the world.  


In a few moments, Coran backed the ferry against the tiny dock at the base of the lighthouse. Once the _Sea Lion_ had docked, Coran followed Keith down the metal staircase. "If you need a ride back to the mainland, just light that lantern on the end of the dock." He indicated an old metal lantern hanging from a pole. "I'll be over as soon as I see it."  


“Okay,” Keith replied, “thanks.” He wheeled his motorcycle onto the dock and turned to look back at Coran, who was smiling with a fondness that was almost fatherly.  


“You take care now, lad,” Coran said by way of goodbye, raising the ramp. Keith waved, not self-consciously, as the _Sea Lion_ pulled away. Then, exhaling, he turned his gaze to the lighthouse.  


The island itself was a tall and hilly, one edge falling to the sea in a steep cliff. Rocks jutted out of the water surrounding it like dark stone teeth. The other side of the island sloped down to a sandy beach. The lighthouse, meanwhile, crowned the top of the cliff. The light at the top was automated these days, but the little white house at its base and the rooms spiraling up the tower had been in Keith’s family for generations, and now it was his.  


Everything else that had ever been his--everything else had always slipped through his fingers. His mom, his dad, his life, his future. Even this lighthouse, once. After his mom disappeared, Keith’s dad couldn’t bear to live in a place so full of her memory, so he found a house in a city far from the ocean and he found a new wife and a new life and left everything behind, everything but Keith, who was pulled along helplessly in his wake. Now his dad was gone, but the lighthouse remained, tall and unmoving, sweeping its unfeeling gaze endlessly across the sea.  


Keith started his motorcycle and made his way up the hill to the lighthouse. The old unpaved road was rough and overgrown in places. He’d have to take care of that at some point, and the trees probably needed trimming where their limbs hung too low over the road, and the grass probably hadn’t been mowed in years. He welcomed the litany of responsibilities; they’d give him purpose, they’d keep him busy, they’d keep his thoughts at bay, even if only for a little while.  


The gravel crunched under his tires as he pulled into the makeshift driveway at the base of the lighthouse. Climbing off his bike, Keith breathed in deep and looked around. Shadows swallowed up the yard. The sky was dark and the sea was darker. It crashed against the cliffs below, loud and constant and soothing in its familiarity, its rhythm. The only light was the golden beam of the lighthouse above; it was the time of night after the sun had gone but before the moon had risen.  


Keith unstrapped the pack and bedroll from the back of his motorcycle and carried them to the door. The old white house had the nerve to look foreign and forbidding for all of a moment before Keith got out his keys, identified the one his dad had left him, and turned it in the lock. Then the house sighed and opened itself to him, and he stepped through the door.  


He was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Keith. I love my socially awkward son.  
> I had all but given up hope of updating this. I tend to hold myself to impossible standards and I don't like to publish anything that isn't perfect. But then Season 7 did... that... and I realized that I can publish literally anything and it will still be better than canon lol. Enjoy part 1 of Keith's homecoming. Expect some seals next chapter. Warning: I have no buffer, plus I've got college to deal with, so I have no idea when the next chapter will actually arrive. That's just how this fic is gonna be, unfortunately. Thanks for your understanding.


End file.
